Waves Are Crashing
by Cherry Ami
Summary: 'AU - Heiwajima Shizuo is a Japan famous designer, who is in need of a male lead in his World tour showcase. Orihara Izaya is a free-lance model, who works to take care of his daughter financially. What will happen to the both of them, if Shizuo hates Izaya's guts, but is forced to add Izaya in his crew by his boss' Yaoi, Angst, Romance, Comedy. Rated M for eventual Shizaya.
1. Chapter 1

**Hello, Durarara fandom. *huge smile***

**I've never written a Shizaya fic before, since I'm currently hiding in the KuroBasu section. But I couldn't help my love for this pairing, so one day, I came up with the idea of a fashion show. As stupid as it sounds, it's not really _that_ bad. Just bear with me? I just hope you guys like this idea, since I can't stop writing it.  
**

**Okay, first thing's first. This is an AU. There might be A LOT of OOC'ness, so sorry in advance. Also, I am not a native english speaker, so sorry for grammar mistakes. This is almost a draft, so I shall take care of the mistakes when I see them (see, I'm a lazy butt, I barely check my fanfics twice). **

**This fanfic will contain smut, angst, romance, comedy and a whole lot of stuff you might or might not like. Eventual Shizaya, of course.  
**

**YOU HAVE BEEN WARNED ABOUT LEMON AND MALE RELATIONSHIPS.  
**

**Description: Heiwajima Shizuo is a Japan famous designer, while Orihara Izaya is a free-lance model that everybody seems to want in their shows. What will happen when Shizuo is forced to have a male lead in his upcoming shows and his boss wants Izaya to work for them? And Shizuo can barely stand the raven head and his quirks. Especially when Izaya has a daughter he cares for very much...  
**

**Disclaimer: NO, I DON'T OWN DRRR, BECAUSE IF I OWNED IT, SHIZAYA WOULD BE CANON.  
**

* * *

"Just choose one and let's go, Tom," I whispered and he waved me off, staring at the males walking on the stage. They were barely smiling, they were content, they were _boring._

I already had my magnificent crew of male and female models, but Tom _insisted _we go to a fashion show and pick one more, since my male lead got sick and had to go back to the U.S.

"You need a _full_ crew, Shizuo, if you want your own show to be perfect," Tom answered, half looking at me, half staring at the models on stage. "And we don't have time to go around model agencies to have one assigned."

I sighed and put my head in my palm. This sucked.

I was a well-known fashion designer in Japan, and my company decided that this year would be the perfect time to introduce me to the world. Since there were a dozen of shows in different continents, I prepared my best piece of art ever and bam, look who can travel the world and wriggle his way through the fashion industry.

"Tom, they don't have anything of interest," I said and he rolled his eyes.

"I heard Namie-san has something up her sleeve," he said, his eyes still skimming through the crowd of idiot models. "It's all over the internet, they guy must be worth _something_."

I lift my eyebrow. "Seriously? We came here just to look at one male model?"

"Yes."

"Shit, Tom, we could've called him through his agency and that would be it, now I have to sit here and –," I started but he shushed me.

"That's the problem," he said, finally looking directly at me. He looked tired. "He doesn't have an agency."

"What?"

"He works free-lance. Whoever pays the highest price gets him," he said and worriedly followed one of the models dressed in a pink suit strutting his way on the stage.

Tom and I have been friends and colleagues for forever now. Ever since I started working for the fashion company, he has been my employer. The down side of it was I had to listen to his every word. Whenever I had a design, I would show him and he would either turn it down or praise it. That's how it worked. And I loved it.

I realized I had a taste for fashion in high-school. Living in Ikebukuro and creating designs wasn't as amazing as it sounded. At first, I was the gay guy with a strange talent, but after the senior year of my school, when I was asked to design and prepare outfits for the whole senior prank and show, I rose in their eyes and it was the best year of my life. I got accepted into the fashion college at once, been lucky enough to have a job in my second year and then, one day, I got a letter from the richest company of fashion in Japan, asking me if I wanted to work for them.

I never regretted my decision.

The show was dull. I coughed once and twice, listening to the sappy music from the speakers. Namie-san was quite popular, but her shows were nothing but a sad view to me. Lucky for her, her outfits were amazing and people barely cared how they were presented.

Then, the music died out and I was surprised when the whole room fell into darkness. I grabbed Tom's hand and blinked a few times to get used to the dark.

"What the –," I said and suddenly, a flicker of light appeared out of nowhere. The end of the stage lit up with gold, and I heard soft piano sounds coming from the speakers. Tom looked at me with 'I told you it's gonna be good' look and I didn't even bother answering, for what happened next made my whole world disappear into whiteness and the feeling of magic pumping through my veins.

I knew the song all too well. It was an amazing piece, a song about home and love. It was slow, the exact opposite of Namie's shows all together.

A man appeared in the center, his hands in his pockets, dressed all in white. I could see why Namie left this for the end of her show. The outfit was amazing. It was a suit made of white fabric, with slight decorations of glimmering gems here and there. It had little wings attached to the back, barely showing, but shimmering in colors of the specter. It was only when the man started moving down the stage did I get a good look at his face.

He had raven hair, a beautifully shaped face and the smile of a devil. His eyes looked innocent, but his posture showed me he wasn't who you thought he was. He was confident and he spiced his walk with everything he had, showing his talent of a model with all of his strength. It was as if he didn't try, but made everything perfect just by a casual walk on the stage.

I felt my mouth open when he passed us by, never looking into our direction, just straight at the cameras and the light. But he was the _light _itself.

He stopped for a few seconds, let the cameras flash, literally _thousands_ of flashes, and turned around with a little wave. It was chaste, useless, but it made everyone start clapping to the music.

He reached the end of the stage and Namie-san emerged from the covers of the backstage. She waved at the crowd, who all started clapping, stood up and some of them even cheered. I didn't know when I have gotten up myself, but I was clapping too. Not at her, but at the amazing raven haired model.

Tom nudged me and smiled.

* * *

Tom dragged me backstage, quickly pulling Namie into a tight hug. She hissed and pushed him away, but a ghost of a smile still lingered on her face. Me and Namie kind of liked each other, but I knew her personality was bitchy when she was with other people. Maybe she respected me and never showed her true side whenever I was involved.

I shook her hand and she sighed.

"I'm glad this is over. I have a week before my next show, so finally, a few days of good sleep and rest."

Tom nodded enthusiastically, but I saw his interest was elsewhere. To be honest, I was scowling the area of half-naked models myself. The raven haired one must be here somewhere.

"So, you called me about my male lead?" Namie asked Tom. She always talked to him, rather than me, and I was thankful. I was fairly scared of her.

"Yes," Tom said. "Shizuo here is going to have a tour with his newly produced show, I guessed we could get good use of your male lead now that you don't need him anymore."

"I heard your male lead got sick," she directed her attention to me. "Sorry to hear that."

"Yeah, thanks," I said absentmindedly. I didn't have the energy to pursue this small talk. I just wanted to see the mysterious model and scram out of here.

"Alright, I'll go search for him, you guys wait here," she said and walked away. Tom stood on his tip-toes, following her with his eyes.

"Are you sure he'll accept?" I asked.

"Of course," Tom said. "Your company has a shitload of money, they would surely love to spend every little penny on you."

"It's not on _me,_" I said. "It's on the models."

And then my eyes caught the raven head.

The first thing I saw was still wearing his outfit.

The second thing I saw that he was shoeless.

And the third thing I saw was that he was carrying _someone._

A little girl, with long black hair and dressed in a very questionable outfit. It was all yellow and covered in sparkling matter.

I didn't wait for Tom's approval. I strolled down to the man immediately.

I pushed through the crowd of models, already whispering my name and chatting with others. My eyes were fixed on the raven head.

I could already hear what he was talking. His voice was soothing, manly and kind of amusing.

"Tami, I'll let you eat just one popsicle today," he said to the girl in his hands. "You had your sugar rush already. I don't want you getting diabetes."

"But _daaaaaaaaad_," the girl groaned in a very squeaky voice. Cute.

"Sorry," I interrupted when I was near enough the raven haired one. It was pretty obvious the little girl in his hands was his daughter. Why was she here?

He lifted his eyes and I saw them for the first time. They were ruby red, fierce and shining. Still innocent looking and somewhat appealing to my likes.

Instead of saying anything, he searched me with his eyes, checked me out from head to toe, his eyes lingering on my chest and somewhere else. I assumed he was being professional.

And then he whistled.

"Whoah, there," he said, putting his daughter down, who immediately clung to his leg. "Aren't you a pretty sight!"

My mouth opened to say something, but he started walking around me, his pale skin shining in the dim lights of the backstage. I suddenly became very conscious of him.

"Never thought I'd have a fan _this _good-looking," he said after walking around and shooting a smile at my face.

What the fuck.

"I'm not a fan, actually," I said, furrowing my brows.

"Then who are you?" He asked, a bit surprised, but never failing to smile.

"I'm a fashion designer," I started rummaging through my pockets, until I found a card. "Heiwajima Shizuo."

He took the card and read it curiously. His daughter tugged his arm so she could see, and he sat on the ground just like that, letting the girl climb into his lap and read with him.

"Hei-wa-ji-ma-shi-zu-o," she read it out loud, his dad holding the paper firmly.

"Don't tell me you want to employ me," the raven haired said and I was about to say something.

"Yes, we would definitely want to employ you," I heard Tom behind me, finally catching up to me and standing next to my left side.

"I refuse~" he sang out and stood up, again getting his daughter into his hands.

"What?" I asked and he started walking away.

"I'm sorry, I have to get dressed, since this little brat wants to eat," he nudged the girl. "Unless you wanna watch."

"I don't want to watch, I want to –," I started but Tom grabbed my shoulder.

"Why would you refuse? Do you even know how much money you could make out of this deal?"

"Frankly, I don't really care, I need my parent time with Tami here," he pointed at her. "Tami, say hi to the men who have loads of money."

"Hi," she waved.

"Look, can you just hear us out?" I asked.

He shook his head and again, smiled. "I don't want to do any shows in Japan anymore, seriously, what is it with you fashion designers thinking you could lure a model into working just by snapping your fingers?"

Holy _shit_ was he annoying me.

"Alright, fuck this," I said and turned on my heel to walk out of this place.

"What if we said you could work overseas?"

I was mad enough not to care what Tom was offering, my blood was boiling. Who was he to treat us like this? He was an ordinary model, for fuck's sake.

"Overseas?"

This made me stop in my tracks.

I turned my head to see the raven head's reaction, and his face was rather confusing.

"See, you didn't even hear the whole offer out, and you just refuse us," Tom was working his magic. I never really knew how he managed being so cold-hearted toward a business talk. I always stomped out whenever I got pissed, and that was what Tom called 'being too emotional over work'.

"Listening," the raven haired said.

"Why don't we discuss this over coffee?" Tom said and the raven haired one looked at Tami or what was her name.

"Not coffee," he said, his eyes on me now. "If you pay for dinner, I might re-consider hearing you out."

"Fuck no."

"We'll pay." Tom said and I glared at him. He shrugged.

"Oh, mister Heiwajima Shizuo doesn't like my company, ne?" the raven pouted.

Tom stared at me until I rolled my eyes and sighed. "Alright, we'll pay."

"Or maybe he does, but he can't admit it! Gosh, you fashion designers are mean," the raven laughed and winked at _me._ "Fortunately for you and your gorgeous eyes, I shall go with you."

He looked at his daughter. "Watch over them, Tami, I won't take long. They might run off and then you won't get your ice-cream dessert."

She nodded and kissed her dad on the cheek. I found her cute, but her dad was unbelievable. If I knew he would be so god damn annoying from the start, I would have never gotten into this in the first place.

The only thing keeping me here was the memory of him shining upstage. I couldn't believe it was the same man here. His daughter immediately got a liking of Tom, and they started chatting, while I looked at the raven's back, straight and slightly muscular, moving forward and sometimes stopping to chat with some of the models around. His wings were flapping around, creating the vision of flight about to happen. But I imagined him as a little devil laughing maniacally in Hell.

What the fuck have I gotten myself into.

"Hey, Tom?"

"Yup?" Tom and Tami looked at me.

"What's his name?"

Tami walked up to me and her glowing eyes were fixed on mine before Tom could answer anything. Her eyes were a brilliant hue of red and brown, so deep and warm, I could drown in them.

"My daddy's name is Orihara Izaya," she said with confidence and pride.

I couldn't help but smile at her.

* * *

**Remember, I like reviews, for they literally drive me into writing more and posting faster. GO GO GO**


	2. Chapter 2

**Whoah, I wasn't expecting so many reviews in just a day. You guys made me so happy, THANK YOU. **

**I shall try updating every day or so. There might be some typos and grammar mistakes, as I said before.  
**

**Enjoy. xD  
**

**Disclaimer: I own Izaya's butt.  
**

* * *

"Here's your coffee," the waitress put a little cup of black substance in front of Tom. "And this is cola for this gorgeous little thing."

Tami lifted her eyebrow. "I am not little."

The raven, now Orihara Izaya, gave Tami a disapproving look and smiled charmingly at the waitress, who was quite disappointed in the little kid's reaction. I wasn't at all surprised by Tami's personality, especially when I now knew how annoying her father was. How can a person become so unlikable in only an hour, I didn't yet comprehend.

"Tami, now what did I say about being mean to others?"

"But she called me _little_," Tami said, her frown nearly too cute to handle.

"You are little," Izaya said and Tami sipped on her drink, not listening to her father anymore.

I was feeling quite uncomfortable with the whole situation. I was about to leave, when Tom held my hand and made me promise I would stay for the evening. I didn't like this Orihara Izaya guy at all. As much as he looked amazing on stage, it wasn't worth my nerves dealing with him for the whole trip.

"Now, how much of overseas are we talking?" Izaya asked, folding a piece of a napkin over and over again, his attention fully on Tom. It's like I didn't exist. Not that I cared, to be exact.

"Italy, the U.S., the U.K, France. Basically anywhere good enough to have a show on a fashion week," Tom answered, still not touching his coffee.

"Payment?"

"However much you ask for," Tom said. I rolled my eyes.

"If I asked you to pay for my flights and food and hotels, would it be possible?"

Tom looked confused. "You're asking for a lot, I mean –"

"Look," Izaya said, leaning on the table a bit. "I have my own rules of how _I _choose who to work for. Salary is the most important thing in my life, because I have to take care of a child, and I'm a lonely parent. But never have I dreamed of getting an offer to work overseas."

He smiled at Tom and gazed at his little daughter, who was playing with her straw.

"You misunderstood me," Izaya continued. "I'm only asking for tickets and hotel payments. I am not asking for a salary."

Well, that got me listening.

I've never heard of a model who would work without actual payment. But who was I to judge what this maniac of a man wished for? If it was his decision, so be it. It was Tom's call either way, so I stood out of the deal. I just sat there and pretended I cared a lot about Izaya's talent.

"Are you sure?" Tom asked, absolutely amazed at the raven's statement.

Izaya sighed. "I want to show Tami everything I can."

Tom shot me a questioning look and I shrugged my shoulders. Izaya was still giving me the cold shoulder.

"We can manage it with the company, as long as you promise not to bail on us the last minute," Tom assured and I could see his shoulders slowly relaxing.

"One more thing," Izaya said and smiled at the waitress again, who now placed a plate of ootoro in front of him. "I have to see every outfit."

"Every outfit?" I finally interrupted and he didn't even look at me. Izaya attacked his fish and moaned into the food, which made me rise my eyebrow again.

"God, this is _delicious_," Izaya said. He raised his chopsticks at me, again, avoiding my eyes. "You have _got _to try some, Heiwajima Shizuo!"

I shook my head. "Just Shizuo," I said. "And please, put that away."

"See, Orihara-san, we usually only show the outfit which will belong to the model, since it takes a lot of hard work to unpack everything –" Tom said.

"I know all of your sickly rules," he waved Tom off and rose his chopsticks at me, the slice of ootoro hanging loosely. "Quick, put one in your mouth until I drop it!"

I shook my head again and looked at Tom for more help. We couldn't just do whatever this bastard wished for. Packing every single piece of fabric was a huge job, and since we only had five assistants, it was a hell lot of work. Other models have seen their outfits already, and it was only our male lead who had to try his on. Izaya was asking for something quite impossible.

"We can only show you your outfits," Tom said, pushing his coffee away.

"Then I'm out of the deal," Izaya said and finally pushed against the table, chopsticks nearly at my mouth.

"What the fuc –" I said and suddenly, I had a mouthful of fish.

I nearly choked and Tom hit me in the back so I wouldn't die on him.

"What is wrong with you?!" I shouted and half of the restaurant glanced at our table. Izaya didn't even care. He just finished his plate and licked his lips.

"You enjoyed it, I can see it from your face," he said, smiling.

I wiped my lips and got up from the table. "I'm gonna go out. Call me when we can go back home, Tom."

Tom tried grabbing my hand again, but I yanked it off and stomped away from the table.

"Heiwajima Shizuo, leaving us so early, no manners at all!" I heard Izaya's shout.

I flipped him and didn't even bother looking back. Suddenly, something tugged my shirt. I looked back and stopped, for the person clinging to the fabric was smaller than me and already had her breath hitching.

"Heiwajima-sama, you left your coat," Tami said, the coat bigger than her hanging on half of her head and shoulder. I quickly took it off of her and tapped her little head.

"Thank you," I murmured and turned on my heel.

As much as I liked the kid, there was nothing I wished more than Izaya to decline the offer.

I rushed out of the restaurant and called a cab home.

* * *

I was living in a luxurious penthouse, surrounded by dozens of celebrities and rich people. It was a nice neighborhood, since everyone here had guards of every sort, so you could feel safe even walking around at 4 a.m – drunk, or entirely naked with money stapled all over your body. No one would attack you and no one would bother to ask you what the fuck you were doing.

I liked living here.

Tom had an apartment right below my penthouse, since he liked smaller places. I, on the other hand, was raised in a cheap home, so I liked huge spaces. And I always dreamed of a balcony, so here I was, sitting on a chair, my insides boiling with rage and looking at the sky.

I dragged a long smoke and exhaled it with ease. Ah, this was what I needed. A great smoke. This was all I had to do to calm my nerves, for everything else didn't seem to work on me. What does a man have to do when he has such a tiring job? Fortunately for me, my tiresome days were over. I was about to start a world-wide career, gathering all sorts of models around me. Sure, our company always assigned the best models in the industry to my shows, but it wasn't enough. I wanted to pick models on my own. A very great example would be Izaya. I'd never pick him, if I had to choose.

I was grateful for Tom, of course. He did all the work I wasn't capable of understanding. Our company trusted him to take care of me and my designs, which was the best choice in their entire existence. I was not very promising at first, but when Tom got everything in his hands, my works became more and more popular, until everyone knew the name of Heiwajima Shizuo, the rising designer of Japan.

I finished my cigarette and dropped it into the trash, barely moving from my seat. I had my tie loosened and a few buttons undone from my shirt. I was quite uncomfortable wearing normal clothes, since a bartender's outfit was the sign of my design. I would wear it to every single one of my shows, be it a bathing suit one, or a cocktail party one.

I wore different designs and patterns, of course, not the same black boring one. It's just that the uniform itself never changed. I stuck to my cores, to my first job ever. And I looked hella good with one on too.

My phone started ringing.

I held it up and saw the caller ID. Tom.

"Yup," I answered, searching for another cigarette.

"Be at the studio 8 a.m. sharp tomorrow," he said, his voice quite distant.

I groaned. "Oh god damnit."

"He will sign, and you know you need him."

"He's a flea," I said. "He's annoying and irresponsible and –"

"How do you know if he's irresponsible?"

"_Look _at him, Tom," I hissed and lit a cigarette.

"I did. He seems responsible of his kid," Tom answered, his tone inconclusive.

"You really want us to _unpack _those clothes?" I asked.

"If it's what it takes to get him to sign – yes."

I got up from the seat and walked over to the edge of my balcony, exhaling the sweet burning fumes.

"Why is he so special to you, I don't understand. You saw him once, and now you want him to work for me?" I said and felt my face burning from anger.

"I can see what kind of an improvement he would be to your entire showcase, Shizuo," Tom deadpanned. I didn't have anything to say. It was his job to make me do whatever the fuck he ordered me to do. "Trust me on this. It's only seven weeks with him, and that's all."

"Seven weeks is a lot, Tom," I said and rubbed my forehead. Seven fucking weeks with an annoying flea. Pathetic, literally.

"I know. You'll have to endure it. I'm going to the headquarters to ask around for documents, I'll call you tomorrow, alright? And don't be late."

"Okay," I said and hung up on him.

My thoughts were swirling around the irritating raven head. No, I shouldn't do this to myself. I had an amazing road up ahead of me. I had to think about my future, about the prospects, about the shows. I knew it's going to be an amazing trip. I was going to make sure no one fucked these weeks over. Especially not the crimson eyed model.

I took a last drag of my second cigarette and headed back inside. A long day awaited for me tomorrow and I had to rest, for I knew I would have a headache the second I crossed the doors of the studio and saw Orihara Izaya.

* * *

**Don't forget, reviews encourage me to write more and they make me happy. kufufufu. 8D**


	3. Chapter 3

**Whoah, I'm not used to so many reviews on just two chapters, it makes me really happy, you guys. xD**

**Here you go, another one. *hearts*  
**

**My personal rule is - shorter chapters, quicker updates.  
**

**Disclaimer: I don't own DRRR, or any of the characters, except for my cute little baby batman jesus Tami.  
**

* * *

I smoked four cigarettes before going inside of the studio. It was nerve wrecking, just as I thought. To think of the possibility I could get out of this madness and never see Orihara Izaya again was so deliriously good, it kept me calm through the night. While now, it didn't seem like it would happen, for when I entered the studio, I saw Tom hunched over a box full of women designer clothes for the showcase.

And there, standing in all of his glory, was Izaya.

He was dressed pretty casually, which was odd, because all I've seen him in was sparkly shirts and pants. He had black jeans on, a black v-neck shirt and some kind of a dark fabric jacket with fur on his hood.

I had to admit, the guy had some taste in clothing. But I noticed one thing missing.

Ah, the girl.

"Heiwajima Shizuo!"

Shit, he saw me coming in. I sighed and moved forward to join Tom in his quest.

"I told you to call me just _Shizuo_," I said and earned a light 'tsk' from the raven.

"Alright, _just Shizuo_," he said, holding one of the outfits up. His eyes roamed around the curves and colors of the matter, brushing it with his hands. "This is quite nice. It doesn't seem like it's really your design, though."

"What?" I demanded and Tom exhaled.

"It's his design," Tom said and Izaya folded the dress he was holding.

"Still don't believe it," he said and grabbed another one. I face-palmed myself. And I had to work with _this _guy for seven weeks?

Think of the showcases, think of the showcases, _think of the showcases._

We unpacked nearly every single outfit for Izaya to see. He contained himself from further comments on my designs, but he asked random questions whenever he pleased. My brain couldn't cooperate with me when I tried understanding _why _did Tom try so hard to get Izaya to work for me. It was mind-blowing, really.

When we were done with everything, I asked if Izaya could try his male lead outfits on. He seemed genuinely happy he could do that.

"You'll have to help him," I turned to Tom, but he shook his head.

"I will destroy every single stitch you made. I thought you always helped models dress up."

Izaya glanced at me and lifted his eyebrow up.

I groaned and waved for Izaya to follow. The reason why I didn't want to be the one to help Izaya was quite obvious, I guess. He annoyed the shit out of me for near three hours of unpacking, asking all those questions and never bothering to think how we feel about this whole event of showing my work to Izaya.

We got into the changing room and I closed the curtain behind us.

Izaya didn't wait for my q, he just started undressing.

I didn't bother turning around, for I would soon have to help him with the suits and accessories.

Izaya had nothing but boxers on, and I couldn't say I didn't like the view in front of me. I was attracted to men, which was a known thing amongst Japan.

He was lean and barely muscular, but that didn't make him less manly. His skin was pale white, creating the illusion of luminescence. Izaya's hair contrasted with his skin, being raven black. And his eyes, oh, his eyes made everything look even more surreal.

If I didn't know the personality of this man before me, I would've pinned him down and ravished the skin reddening before me.

"Like what you see, ne?" Izaya said and made a little spin.

I shook myself out of it and rolled my eyes. "Just get on with it."

We made quite a fuss over deciding how the outfit went on. Izaya nearly fell three times, and I had to hold on to him when we pulled one of the jackets on. I felt his hands tighten around my neck when I buttoned the back (the design was quite hard to handle) and when I leaned back, Izaya stood straight, admiring the view in the mirror.

"Oh wow," he breathed out.

I looked in the mirror, seeing the perfection of Izaya's body shape and the outfit I designed. It was as if it was made for him.

"Yeah," I said. "Wow. Tom?" I yelled and then Tom drew the curtain to the side, coming in.

He laid his eyes on Izaya and smiled.

"I told you he'd improve your showcase."

"He would, if his mouth stayed shut for seven weeks," I said and fixed one of the straps from his pants. Izaya shot a glare at me, but stayed silent.

"That was all of it," Tom said. "You guys finish here and we'll talk business."

"Hahaha, finish here," Izaya chuckled and I mentally crushed him with my fist.

It took a lot of effort and time to get Izaya out of those clothes, but when I was done, he rushed to dress up and we walked into the studio again.

When we were properly seated and holding a cup of coffee each, Tom caught my glance and coughed.

"So what will you say to the offer?"

"I would've gone with you without this whole showing the designs thing," Izaya smiled and took a sip of his coffee.

He has got to be kidding me.

"You made us _unpack every single piece of fabric and you would've gone with us either way_?!" Oh, I got angry.

Tom looked unpleasant too.

"It's how I test my employers," Izaya said. "If they really want me to work for them, they will do anything. And I do mean _anything_," he said while smirking.

How fucking hard it was to keep myself from smashing the shit out of this raven haired fool.

"Anyway, now that this is done, I have to say, I'm quite impressed," Izaya said, putting one of his legs on top of the other. "The whole collection is hardly anything I've ever seen."

I leaned in, feeling some kind of a warm feeling in my chest. I always felt better when my work was acknowledged, even if the acknowledgement came from a flea like him.

"Thank you," I squeezed out and poured the rest of my coffee down my throat. It burned like hell, but it distracted me from wanting to kill him with my bare hands.

"You'll start working a week from now," Tom interrupted, handing Izaya a document he had to sign. "We have practices every day at nine. Be sure to attend them."

"I'm gonna bring Tami with, she loves staring at models," Izaya said, biting his lip and carefully reading through the contract.

"Come to think of it, why didn't you bring her today?" I asked, purely out of curiosity.

"Oh, she's staying with my friend until the end of the week," he answered, signing the sheet. I glanced at his handwriting, and I had to say it was kind of beautiful. "Since I'm taking her on the trip, she needs some quality time with a woman for once."

It was maddening to know I had some kind of interest in Izaya's life. Who was Tami's mother? Why was Izaya alone and working as a model? I did some research on him the other night, and it was strange to see he had a college degree and his CV was filled with various business places. He was also rich.

He was a mystery.

Izaya handed the contract to Tom and zipped his jacket up. He lifted his hand to me and smiled.

"I look forward to working with you, just Shizuo," he said.

I shook his hand, bitterly smiling. "Not so much with you, Izaya."

"Okay, you two, cut it out," Tom said and I quickly let go of Izaya's hand. "Shizuo, you'll have to behave. He's your male lead now. Treat him with some respect?"

I took out another cigarette and tapped it on the table. "Yeah, don't count on that, but I'll see what I can do."

Izaya couldn't wipe the smile off his face. He lifted himself from the table and bowed.

I followed him, wanting nothing but a good smoke outside.

"I'll be right back, Tom," I said and walked toward the door. I felt someone following me. "What are you doing?"

Izaya was standing next to me as I was holding the door handle.

"Going home, obviously," he answered and went straight past me. I bit the inside of my lip before I could answer something horrible. I promised Tom I would try treating Izaya with respect.

We got into the elevator and I pressed the down button. Izaya rocked on his heels, watching the numbers lower to one and right before the door opened, he turned to me.

"I wasn't lying I was looking forward to working with you, mean protozoan," he said.

I shot him a look.

"Why?" I asked.

"It's because I get to see all of your cute reactions when I do this," he said and proceeded to grab my ass.

I almost fell back, but when the door opened, he flew by me and waved at me, shouting 'Bye bye, Shizu-chan!'

It took me a moment to understand what just happened.

"What the fuc-," I blurted. "Shizu-chan…? SHIZU-CHAN? I AM NOT A BLOODY SHIZU-CHAN, GET BACK HERE, FLEA!"

And thus, the hardest weeks of my entire life came to an annoying start.

* * *

**I am so sorry for so much OOC'ness, but it's impossible to write a fic like this with their original personalities. xD Bear with me. ALSO, SORRY IF I MADE ANY TYPOS OR GRAMMAR MISTAKES  
**

**Reviews make me happy and reviews make me want to write moooore, woooo  
**


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